


Tales of The Twilight

by Bugggghead



Series: Bughead Drabbles & One Shots [33]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, both the first and the last, flangst, nostalgic date night at the twilight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17289704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/Bugggghead
Summary: Betty and Jughead have their first (and last) date at the Twilight Drive-In the night before it's set for demolition.-a birthday gift for the lovely @paperlesscrown





	Tales of The Twilight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paperlesscrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperlesscrown/gifts).



> Happy, happy Birthday to one of my favorite authors - published or otherwise. Liz, you are talented beyond measure and yet so humble about all of your hard work. I look up to your unique style and way with words as inspiration for my own works. I hope I did your idea justice here and I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> ALSO huge shoutout to the magical @jandjsalmon for betaing this on such short notice. She is amazing and I simply adore her.
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/828smQQ)

 

*

 

Posters from the final showing still litter the ground, some with footprints pressed into the dirt, others flapping off the side of the projection booth, the adhesive nearly too dried to stick. It had only been a few months since the Twilight Drive-In had closed, but time was already taking its toll on the place despite it being wrapped with a large metal fence decorated with signs warning everyone to KEEP OUT. Betty never has been one to follow the rules though, looking right past the sign as she slipped through a section of fence Jughead had just cut open. 

 

The screen was still intact, swaying with the wind held only by a few remaining lines still keeping it up against the wooden board. Save for the occasional rustle of leaves getting caught in a windswept corner, the abandoned lot is eerily silent - only the soft chirp of the cicadas from the forest just beyond echoing through the barren land. Betty tightened her grip on the bag slung over her shoulder, inching toward the projection booth situated just to their side.

 

“Go on up there. I’ll be right behind you in a second,” Jughead supplied, pressing a kiss to her temple and disappearing behind the building.

 

The stairs were surprisingly sturdy for their obvious age, the cracks and creaks from her footfalls softly sounding as she ascended. There were notes scrawled across the side of the building - fading hearts with initials, remnants of past patrons who’d left their proverbial mark on the once great landmark. She saw his telltale script  _ Jughead Jonez Wuz Here  _ painted plain as day across a patch near the top, smiling to herself as she let her fingertips trace the remnant of himself he’d once left.

 

The door squeaks to life, clearly in need of grease for the rusty hinges on which it hangs as she steps inside the dusty room. Betty carefully walks to the edge of the window, looking out over the grounds that still bare the evidence of the last hurrah from many moons ago. The tire marks are deep, worn into what once was grass in perfect lines of muddied tracks and rows between of well-packed dirt paths.

 

Just as she’s turned to look at the dilapidated concession stand, the first of the buildings being demolished already halfway there, she’s startled by the whirring of the place coming to life. Shortly after, with only the soft glow of the light outside the door competing with the silvery hue of the moon, she hears him open the door, turning as she hears the same squeak again before it shuts them in.

 

In two short steps, he’s standing behind her, his hands coming to rest on her hips as she leans back into his warmth. “It’ll all be gone tomorrow,” he says, the melancholy in his voice causing her to turn in his arms. 

 

With her hands pressing against his chest, she leans forward and places a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We’d better make the most of the last show, then,” she says, and his lips tilt up in the smallest of smiles.

 

He’d turned on the breaker, the projector slowly spinning in anticipation of the soon to be loaded film. Betty settles on the small mattress in the corner, trying her hardest to ignore the tug in her chest at the scene before her. He’d lived here, once upon a time, alone and unhappy on the nights when his father would come home with a bone to pick and alcohol on his breath, and many nights, according to Jughead himself, when his father wouldn’t come home at all. To think this tiny room had been more comforting than the prospect of what was once his own home has her wishing he’d told her sooner.  

 

The film roars to life as soon as she slips the slide in to start the spinning wheel. Pictures paint the screen and the speakers crackle as they adjust to the sound resonating through the empty lot, bouncing between the shells of the buildings with nothing to muffle their echo. 

 

She’d let him choose the movie - the same one she’d once selected without knowing he’d harbored feelings for her - feelings she’d reciprocated despite the fumbling mess of his assumptions about her affections for Archie. But she can’t dwell on the past, settling into his side and pulling their planned snacks from the bag off to the side. She hands him one ziplock full of popcorn and pulls out his bag of Reeses before retrieving the Twizzlers they’d ultimately decided they’d share.

 

They haven’t been dating long, a few weeks at best, depending on if Veronica’s declaration in the student lounge or their first kiss set the date, but either way, Betty thinks she might just love him. She might have always loved him, in one form or another, but only recently has what that meant become a crip, clear, three-word sentence. She loves him differently now, sitting in the booth pressed into his side as he throws back handfuls of popcorn with his eyes trained on the screen. Now she knows it’s much different - not the ‘I love you’ that kids throw around on the playground, or the friendly ‘love you’ that means you’re especially close with someone - no, this ‘I love you’ carries more than just the weight of the words. It seems all-encompassing, and yet, somehow not nearly enough.

 

Her eyes focus on the press of his jaw as he chews the Twizzler, taking in the scene of the boy who’d rather be alone than with those she’s not sure even know the true meaning of love. She definitely loves him, she thinks, leaning her head on his shoulder to watch as the streaming light of the movie paints the screen.

 

She thinks on any other day, in any other place, under any other circumstance, they’d be carrying on with commentary as they always had. She loves this movie and has plenty to say about just that, but the silence that’s settled in the barren little room feels a bit too fragile to fracture. James Dean’s voice fills the void just fine, she decides, reaching over for a handful of popcorn as he pulls her the tiniest bit closer.

 

Maybe the comfort she finds in his arms, he finds in hers too. She hopes so, watching the credits roll across the screen. The grainy film finishes, clicking as it spins on its wheel before he gets up to shut it off. “That’s that, I guess,” he says softly, peering over the dimly lit field in front of him.

 

Betty’s gathered all their trash, bagging it up and looking around the room for anything worth taking away from here, some fragment of his past life he may not want to lay amongst the rubble it will surely be within the next day. “Hey, Jug?” she asks, pinching the corner of a frayed picture from beside the mattress. She can see two figures with dark hair, a little girl with a front tooth missing and a young glimpse of Jughead just beside her - his trusty beanie fit loosely over his head with the Twilight’s screen shining brightly in the background.

 

“Where’d you find that?” He’s kneeling next to her, turning the faded picture over in his hands and she thinks she hears him swallow hard.

 

“Next to the mattress.” With one last sweep of her eyes, she spots something that gives her an idea.

 

He’s stuffing the picture in his wallet when she says, “Shut off the power and I’ll be right down,” kissing him softly before they part.

 

The blanket’s already in her bag, nothing but empty reels and colonies of dust bunnies dotting the floor. The walls, on the other hand, bare a small heart with two sharp little letters - J & B - carved more recently than the ones she’d seen earlier, and in a place that tells her no one else could have done it. Just under the shelf, above where he used to lay his head, she presses her fingernails between the near rotten boards and begins to pry it off. Ultimately using a key for leverage, the small piece of wood separates from the rest with a crack that has Jughead calling, “Is everything alright up there?”

 

She huffs, “Fine; coming now,” and lets her eyes linger on the place that would soon be no more for one final time. She hadn’t spent much time up here in her life, but he certainly had, and somehow even the old worn down wood seems to breathe his essence, despite his presence being long gone from the space.

 

“I got you something,” she says, hands outstretched at the base of the stairs, the wood turned over, bearing no mark at first glance.

 

He picks it up and asks, “What’s this?” turning it in his hands before he realizes.

 

“I love you, Jughead Jones,” she says on an exhale, emboldened by the sense of overwhelming nostalgia and deep drive to find him any modicum of comfort she can. “And I want you to take this place with you when you leave.”

 

“Betty Cooper,” he says, in the strongest voice he can muster, with the strain of the tears forming in his eyes still evident nonetheless. “I love you and one day,  _ we _ will leave.”

 

And in the dark field, surrounded by mud and ghosts of what once was, she feels the beginning of something entirely new - a new tale to tell about the soon to be demolished Twilight - and it might just be her favorite one yet.

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> So there was a dash of angst sprinkled in for good measure. I hope you all enjoyed this little ficlet!
> 
> Comments ALWAYS appreciated (I love and cherish them all equally and I swear one day I'll finally be caught up on replies)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @bugggghead!


End file.
